


The Untriumphant Show

by CravenWyvern



Series: DS Extras [33]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, Gen, headcanons galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravenWyvern/pseuds/CravenWyvern
Summary: Wilson hadn't realized that seeing someone that was most certainly Maxwell but alsonotMaxwell would be this bizarre. It actually was sort of freaking him out.William just wondered why in the world a short, bearded, probably mad wild man was one of the most hospitable people he's met in a very long time. He was also starting to think the train had crashed and he may in fact be very dead.It wasn't a nice thing to think about, and he hoped poor Charlie wasn't still waiting in California for him to show up.





	1. In which Wilson is grumpy that someone is dead, and then it only gets worse from there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Yeah, pretty sure that isn't supposed to happen, touchstones don't make you any younger, and the Shadow Queen is just being an absolute pain in the neck to laugh at us all later."_

Losing Maxwell to the hounds had been unwanted, but also a little unsurprising. They were still lacking armor at camp, and Wilson blamed himself for that since he had been more focused on getting winter supplies instead of defenses. On his own, he would have been fine with that, but apparently having the older man around meant he needed to think outside of what he was used to again.

It...was a little traumatizing, to be sure, but Wilson at least got out of the situation with his life and the camp mostly still whole. The rest of the pack apparently were more interested in dragging away their kill than finishing him off.

Whether or not that was because of the addition to their bone pile or because they somehow recognized their creator was still up for debate, but Wilson had other worries to think about. The tent and a few chests had been damaged, the crockpot shoved over, and half of the wool and silk he had personally gathered had been ravaged and drooled upon. And winter was almost here, the chill of autumn falling into colder and colder reaches, so now he needed to work double time.

Death wasn't too much of a problem, and Maxwell had a touchstone tied to him. There wasn't much worry about when it came to that.

At least until the next morning, when Wilson went out to meet the man where he'd revive, puffskin vest in hand and a hat already on his head. The early morning had a frost, thin, and it would melt as the sun rose but if it affected him, then of course it would be worse for the older man, and Wilson needed to make sure he didn't freeze to death before arriving back to camp.

He didn't want to have to make a heart or waste an amulet for something like that.

But when he did show up at the touchstone, its circle of pig heads still stinking, devoid of flies in the chill but still obviously rotting, Maxwell wasn't the one sitting up on the stone after the lightning strikes crack of noise.

Or, it was, Wilson was pretty sure, but he certainly looked...different, and it was a rather surprising, unpredicted thing to happen.

So Wilson looked at the man and the man looked at him, and for a moment Wilson felt as if something had been shifted, toyed with. Later, he'd blame the Throne and its ruler, and he'd be completely correct in doing so.

And then the moment passed, the man got to his feet unsteadily, took a quick look around, and then shakily introduced himself as William, William Carter, and then asked Wilson where, exactly, he was, and also how?

And Wilson stood there, feeling rather confused, shocked, and very much that he didn't deserve this in any way at all.


	2. In which William doesn't know where he is, how he got here or why, and it's sort of scarying him at this point pls help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Well, following an absolute stranger into the woods after waking up on an alter surrounded by decapitated pig heads sounds like a good idea at first, but I'm wondering if it actually isn't that. A good idea, I mean."_

“It's. It's rather cold out, isn't it?”

“Yes, that would be winter coming up. It'll get worse soon, probably have a few blizzards too now that I think of it.”

William lagged behind the other man, and this puffy vest...thing was rather odd, made of something he's never seen before, but it certainly was warm at least. Kind of itchy, though.

He didn't complain. It was nice of the other man to give it to him.

Wilson P. Higgsbury, that is what he said his name was, and it sounded a little odd and long winded but William's heard a variety of odd names in his time so it wasn't that outlandish really. Maybe a little fake, he's never heard of a Higgsbury before, but then again Carter was still a new name to his family, no matter how much his brother liked to boast that it has always been there.

Wilson had lapsed into silence, steadily plodding on and looking deep in thought, and William didn't have to walk fast to catch up at all, actually had to adjust himself to not outpace him by accident. The man was rather short, wasn't he?

The nip in the air did seem frosty enough for a coming winter. He had always thought he was good at guessing that sort of thing, but perhaps he's lost his touch. He may have grown up in snowy seasons but lived in England and its rains longer, and then the States had been a weird old mess of weathers. Been moving around too much to accurately tell anymore.

William wondered where, exactly, in the States they were. The other man was being friendly, but not exactly talkative or full of information. Perhaps he should rethink following him into some unknown location with no one else around.

The thought did make him drag his feet a moment, before William shook his head and picked up his pace. He may be a bit gullible, but Wilson was a very short man. There should be no trouble if there was a fight.

Right?

Well, looking at the back of the man's head, and his rather odd looking hair, he did cut a stocky figure. 

But William was just feeling a bit cautious, that was all, and maybe paranoid. That was perfectly normal when coming to upon what appeared to be a stone altar surrounded by what seemed to be speared pig heads and stared at by a short, bearded man. 

...He didn't know how he got here, still.

For some reason, this thought did make him slow down, finally stopping as the reality of not knowing _where he was_ set in. It took a moment for Wilson to realize he wasn't being followed and the short man turned around, gave him a curious look while still somehow looking like he had a permanent scowl on his face.

“...You coming? It's not safe, staying in the open like this.”

William didn't know if that was somehow a threat or an actual warning, but he mustered up what little courage he had and squared his shoulders, took a steady breath. As if following around a complete stranger was what he should be doing! He needed to find the closest town or station, something that looked a bit more civilized, and certainly safer!

“I'm sorry, it's just that I...don’t actually know who you are?” All right, how was he supposed to say this without making it sound like he didn't trust this man in the very least? “Or, or where we are going, forgive me but that is highly suspicious and you have to understand that this is a little jarring and-”

William had to stop there, breath hitching for a moment because he hadn't even realized that perhaps he was starting to panic a little. His voice had pitched, wobbled into almost cracking, and that was enough warning for him because if he continued speaking he might just burst into hysterics because _he literally didn't know what was going on and it was stressing him out quite badly._

His sight was getting a little blurry, he realized, and he had to raise a hand to rub his eyes, pushing his glasses up as he stuttered in a breathe, and this was very embarrassing actually, how stupid of him. 

The other man didn't seem to know how to respond, floundered as William got a hold of himself, before taking a few steps back to him and trying to give him what was probably a comforting look but looking like a grimace more than anything else.

“Well, I, uh, gave you my name, so at least there's that?”

The lackluster response actually made William sputter a strangled chuckle of some sort, a little surprised maybe. What, did the man think this was a fairy tale of some sort? The selling of names was a serious ordeal, William knew that well, but this was nothing in comparison.

“That's not really comforting, really. Names are easy to make up.”

“Oh? Well, I don't know about that, everyone I know has always had trouble with giving things names.”

William adjusted his glasses, and perhaps it was just a quick bout of hysterics that had had him, because it was gone now and he didn't feel as panicked, or maybe it was the fact Wilson didn't sound as distant anymore or as apathetic. Or maybe it was because he was being talked to, face to face, instead of given responses over the shoulder.

It was a little embarrassing, but feeling ignored made him anxious, and it was even worse in this situation. He was realizing that he had no one around to rely on, and it was nerve racking due to the absurdity.

As if he hasn't been out alone around strangers before. But usually there was a logical path to it, not just waking up on cold stone and being stared at by someone he didn't know whatsoever.

“I...I suppose for some people it can be a little hard, it does take imagination after all.”

“Fine, then you give me an answer to this: what would you call a creature that, say, looked like both a moose and goose mixed together?” Wilson was watching him, and it was hard to meet his eyes but it didn't seem like he was being very serious, especially with a question like that. “Imagine that it was very large too, very, very large. As big as you can imagine a goose moose thing to get.”

“I can't imagine something like that actually existing, it would be rather absurd.” William did turn the idea over in his mind, however. It took a moment, trying to picture said goose, and then the moose bits, and then the “large” part, and it looked rather thrown together, not at all smoothed in any way. “What would it even do with itself, if it was that large? How could something that heavy even fly?”

“That's what I wonder too, but that wasn't what I was asking. If imagination is all that it took to name something, what would be such a creatures name?”

“You speak as if it was real, Mr. Higgsbury.”

That made the short man laugh, honest to god look surprised for a second and then burst out laughing, and he was still nervous, especially with such an odd creature in mind, but William did smile at that, feeling that tense knot in his chest relaxing ever so slightly. Maybe he shouldn't be so paranoid, then, and he should put some trust into the man.

God knows he was terrible with where he threw around his trust, but maybe he'd be in luck this time?

William did have terrible luck though.

“Damn, you, you got me there!” Wilson wiped the tears from his eyes, still chuckling under his breath as he shook his head. “Moose Goose is the answer, by the way, or sometimes Goose Moose depending on the season. I can hardly tell half the time, its head is too far in the clouds to see.”

That wasn't really...comforting to hear, William thought. Maybe he had just set himself up with a madman, but it was seeing someone else laugh and smile like that made him feel lighter anyway.

“That doesn't sound very creative.”

“Not at all. I wondered for awhile if I could rename it, but couldn't think of anything better at the time.” Wilson put his hands on his hips, heaved out a sigh as he seemed to think for a moment, and then he came to a decision.

He stuck out his hand to William, amicable and with a lopsided smile on his face, looking less of a scowl now and more...normal, somehow. 

“You know my name, I know yours, and I'm fairly certain neither are as made up as some people like to think. You can call me Wilson, by the way. Too many people like my last name, they'll be wearing it out if they keep saying it often enough and then I'll end up having to make up something that wouldn't be so genuine.”

William was still smiling, a little shaky, but he wasn't as nervous now. Cautious, because this man was obviously not completely sound, but he was friendly and that was enough for him, especially in a new, strange place. Sometimes, he just had to let his trust go where it wished, and hope for the best.

When he reached out, shook the other man's hand, he was almost surprised at the grip, how someone so short and small looking could feel so rugged and firm. Not to mention that he must be wearing some odd fashion of gloves, but William didn't want to seem rude and look too closely. Perhaps if he knew him better later on he'd ask.

“Well, Wilson, I'm still William, and I'll have you know that I haven't thought of changing my name for at least a few years now. People tell me it fits, or so they've said anyway.”

Wilson nodded his head, and when they parted the air was less tense and William felt a little more companionable, more than he's felt in a rather long time. 

“I think they're right on that. Come on now, we don't want to be out here unprepared when it gets dark.” With that Wilson turned away, gesturing back to him to follow, and William started up behind him, this time with a lighter step.

He'd hope for the best, at the very least. Maybe he'd be lucky, for once in his life?

William really hoped so.


	3. In which Wilson wonders which name is better to hang out with, the fact that a few years really do make all the difference, and also that this is just really, really weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I mean, when I was young I was an absolute shit, but it's sort of hard to think of that man as young because he's always seemed like a twisted bitter old jackass to me. But this? ....maybe plain stupid, but not a jackass."_

“It's so dark…”

“Yep.”

“And it doesn't let up?”

“On full moon, but that's it. Every night is like this.”

“...Oh.”

“...You’ll get used to it. Everyone does, eventually.”

Wilson watched as William went quiet, still looking to the sky, as if to try and find the stars. He felt sort of bad, what with the searching look on the other mans face.

“It's cloudy right now, but on clear nights you can see a few of the stars. Not many familiar constellations though.”

“That's alright.” William folded his arms in his lap, quietly sighing, and it still was so odd seeing such a relaxed, almost clueless look upon Maxwell’s old face. “I'm not particularly good with that sort of thing anyway.”

He looked younger, just a tad bit, though the hard lines were there, and the narrow look too. But he seemed rounder, not as worn down, and even his voice was livelier, sounded different, in pitch and tone somehow. It was almost jarring, Wilson thought, turning his gaze away to have a look into his newly patched up cookpot. He stirred the slush a moment, meatballs simmering with the mix of whatever he had on hand that was edible thrown in, but it wasn't finished yet. Smelled nice though.

Apparently William thought so to, with the way he leaned forward on the log he was sitting on across from the fire, the curious look again sort of surprising to see. 

Maxwell always had this bitter undercurrent, like he always had something unpleasant in mind that wouldn't leave him alone. This William seemed to be missing that, and it was really, really different.

Not to mention his eyes. Wilson was so used to pitch black by now that seeing actual pupils and not that god awful shine almost seemed wrong. And he really hadn't expected Maxwell to have regular old brown eyes either, not something a little more out there. The glasses were not much of a surprise, Maxwell did squint all the damn time, but it did make him look less threatening, that was for sure.

The other man had been incredibly nervous earlier on, which Wilson really should have expected, but at the time he had been having doubts. Amnesia wasn't uncommon, and neither was waking up with different clothes and slightly different memories, but completely forgetting everything, even Wilson? A little hard to believe, and he had treated the situation as such.

But then William had nearly burst into tears, and that had been even more jarring than anything else today could have offered. Seeing a slightly younger copy of Maxwell, trying to not cry like that, sounding worried and confused and incredibly lost?

It actually made Wilson feel bad for acting so callous, and when it came to Maxwell that really meant something. 

He was still being cautious, but the other man seemed to be relaxing a bit the more Wilson talked, so there was that. It's been awhile since he had to interact with someone so new to the Constant, especially someone who should already know everything that needed to be known.

That was probably the reason why he hasn't actually told William that this wasn't the “real world” and that it held hideous, hungry monsters everywhere. He was still sort of holding out hope that maybe Maxwell was in there, somehow, and that this was some sort of trick or that it would wear off soon.

“...What are you making?”

There was an odd hesitance in the way he talked, but Wilson couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was. The sound too, it was different, was missing something that made Maxwell sound like, well, Maxwell, or was it that it had something added to it instead? Almost like a half forgotten accent, but not anything too familiar to Wilson, that was for sure. It was really weird.

“Meatballs. They'll be done soon.”

“Meatballs…” William repeated to himself, looking lost in thought as his gaze fell to the fire. For a moment there was silence, Wilson making his way over to sit at the other log near the fire, William across from him as he got comfortable. “I haven't had something like that in quite awhile, I think.”

“It's a staple here. Easiest thing to make.”

“I've never been good at cooking…”

Wilson waved that away, shaking his head. “Anyone can do it, just takes a bit of experimenting. The worse that'll happen from trying is a blob of wet goo, but that's usually still edible so don't worry.”

Now, Maxwell hadn't been good at cooking either, though he did try for the most part. Probably because Wilson wasn't willing to make every meal every day for the man, especially if they've been arguing. 

For a moment there was a comfortable silence, Wilson letting out a held breath as the fire crackled in its pit, healthy and strong and not soon to go out anytime soon. 

Even the air was different, the atmosphere. Somehow the name change, the difference in personality, was jarring enough as if to shift the very aura of camp altogether. Wilson didn't know what to think of it just yet, but it certainly wasn't as tense as before. Perhaps he'd like this William fellow more than Maxwell.

What an odd thing, to like someone's supposedly younger self. Weird to think that round face with a quiet voice would turn out to be someone so bitter and mean in the end.

“You, you said you were a scientist earlier, didn't you?” William was fiddling with his hands, not quite looking him in the eye but looking as if he was trying, and when Wilson nodded he drew in a deep breath, as if it was hard to even get himself to talk first. “Your field, what is it that you study then?”

Oh. Wilson hadn't actually expected that.

The last time he had talked about that had been when he was introduced to that engineer, and then before that in depth with the children and all their questions. They had given him a headache that day, in a competition to ask him harder and harder questions, until he had been saved by Wickerbottom coming around to shoo them off to chores.

And then the old woman had turned herself around just to ask him her own questions next.

That was probably one of the reasons why he didn't like camping with them all. Too many questions, all the time.

But, he had to be lenient right now. William obviously didn't know better.

“This and that, really.” More than that, very specific things, but Wilson didn't want to get too into it right now. It could get complicated real quick if he wasn't careful. “I try to focus more on the creation aspect of science, inventions and knowledge. I've learned that fields and topics don't really matter here.”

“Oh.” William looked a little downtrodden, and Wilson wondered idly on what exactly he had been hoping for. 

They settled once more into silence, William fiddling with his hands, staring at the fire, and Wilson let his thoughts drift in the quiet for a bit.

The hound attack so recent, and the calm was probably going to hold for quite awhile. Probably really lucky for William then.

He was really lucky Wilson found him first, actually. He didn't know what the others would have done had they found William, but he expected it would have been chaotic and very stressful for everyone involved.

Imagine, if the others started to believe that they'd wake from revival as a younger version of themselves! It would be worse chaos than ever.

Well, now that Wilson thought of it, it did hold a measure of fear in him. Coming back those few years younger would make all the difference in survival, especially if he just didn't know how he got here in the first place.

Hopefully the one on the Throne only had a personal vendetta, and not some super special plan or something else terrible and entertaining in store for the future. Losing everything he's worked so hard to learn would be devastating, and already dealing with amnesia made sure Wilson knew the circumstances of that perfectly well.

“Er, Wilson?” He looked up, watched William fidget, looking incredibly awkward as he adjusted his glasses, legs crossed and holding himself stiffly.

Good god, did seeing Maxwell look awkward make everything even weirder than ever. If he hadn't already seen worse things, Wilson was sure that it could end up as nightmare material.

Imagine, coming here the first time, and this was the man he met before being told to get food before night fell. Or, hell, seeing someone like this on the Nightmare Throne.

Well, for all he knew, that might have been what happened. And then time passed, changed, but that wouldn't explain everything very well.

There was a remarkable difference between the two names he knew, and Wilson wondered, vaguely, on what had happened to cause it.

“...yes?” 

William fidgeted even more before answering, and Wilson was beginning to get a little suspicious.

“Er, sorry, it's a little difficult to ask, though I suppose it would be worse to assume anything, of course, so I am sorry for being a bother about it-”

“What is it, William?”

Apparently, younger Maxwell rambled as well. The older man wasn't exactly blunt, but he certainly wasn't this damn awkward!

Perhaps Wilson needed to rethink on who he actually preferred, because if he had to deal with something like this he may actually lose his mind. Even Webber, a literal child, had more articulation than this, and the kid sure could ramble, and for hours at a time too!

“Sorry, I just…” William trailed off for a moment, looking away, before finally seeming to get his nerve to spit out whatever he was meaning to say. “Is there anywhere...nearby, that one could go to relieve oneself?”

Oh, okay, that's what this was about.

...Wait a second, it was almost as if the man was asking for Wilson's _permission_. Then again, he had said he's never camped before.

Or maybe younger Maxwell was just an idiot? Or something? Or maybe Wilson was reading too much into it?

Whatever. Even Wendy didn't ask, she'd just take off with a lantern without warning, and it was sort of expected. 

Though, Willow sometimes made it a point to announce to everyone, quite loudly, that she was going out to take a piss, so not everybody was as discreet. 

Wilson waved his hand, rubbed his forehead as he spoke, and maybe it was just the reality of the bizarreness setting in on him now but god did this actually make him tired.

“Not really, just anywhere not too close to camp is all.” As William rose, a little hesitant, Wilson remembered something and snapped his claws, standing up as well and hustling to one of his newly patched up chests. “Oh, you'll need one of these though!”

He pulled out a lantern, empty and heavy, and slammed shut the chest as he went looking for his jar of fireflies. William followed behind him, watched with interest as he got a few of the bugs nudged into the glass chamber, setting the closed jar aside as the lanterns light heightened and spread about.

“It's not safe to go out into the dark without light. Something's out there, and you don't want to meet it.”

William took the offered lantern, a little surprised at its weight before he adjusted himself, but he looked more disbelieving more than anything else at Wilsons words.

“Something out in the dark? Boogeymen don't exist, Wilson, I'm not that gullible.”

Wilson rolled his eyes. How funny; hadn't Maxwell once joked about being such a being once? Or had he been laughingly comparing himself to a demon?

Well, either way, the Grue was dangerous, and he didn't need his warning ignored so early.

“Just keep it lit, alright? If you don't want to believe me, fine, but other things can creep up on you too. Wolves still exist here, after all.” That just made William look confused, and a little nervous too, but he gave Wilson a nod before shuffling out to where the fires light ended and the lanterns grew out. 

The dark was a menacing thing here, so Wilson turned away and let the man get his own courage up, gaze going to the crockpot and deciding that he should focus on that instead.

The lack of an outhouse out here really didn't bother Wilson, but then again he's been out here for awhile and so have the others. If he was camping alone he'd be less private, but most people were.

Willow still liked her space, and still hated clothing for the most part. Walking into her camp one day to find her laying out on top of her all too dangerously massive fire, completely bare, had been an experience he sort of wished to erase from his mind. Wigfrid was a whole other topic, not to mention Wendy when she was older and wanted her own space to do her own thing. And that didn't even touch upon Woodie and Wolfgang, what with their odd habits he'd rather not know of!

That was still sort of awkward to think about sometimes, so he didn't do it often. It was more important to think of his own survival, after all.

Hell, and even Maxwell hadn't felt the need to ask or anything. Why was his younger self just so…awkward? This all felt so damn weird, and Wilson was starting to wish nothing had changed at all. 

He didn't think he liked change all that much, that was for sure. Better living with what he knew than trying to learn about someone new.

….That wasn't a very scientist thing to think, and he'd be ashamed of himself if he cared at all. But he's figured out that science, for him, should apply to what he did and learned from the world.

And not from random, invading, unpredictable people. The variables then were always so chaotic, and lost the logic all too fast.

He was dousing down the crockpots flames by the time he heard William get back, meatballs ready and stomach gurgling at the smell.

“You got back just in time.” He turned around to watch the other man almost stumble on his own feet, lantern held in his arms as he huffed and puffed, and Wilson raised an eyebrow at him, leaned to look back out into the darkness for a moment. “What, is something chasing you already?”

“No, no, but Wilson!” William straightened up, looking disheveled and rather pale, but he shoved up his sliding down glasses, sounding a bit distressed. “I think there's someone out there!”

Wilson blinked a few times, just about ready to tell him that yes, there were others, maybe he caught sight of a distant torch or heard voices, he probably should have warned the man before hand, before William shook his head and continued, looking as if his mind was turning too fast for him to keep up.

“I did keep the lantern on, but it almost sounded as if someone was out in the dark, a woman, and she sounded as if she needed help! I didn't know what to do, you said to not go out without light and I didn't want to go too far, so I came back to get you and-”

Wilson raised his hands, could already feel the sigh rising in him, as William seemed to get even more stressed, running a hand over his head as he stuttered, gaze finally focusing back onto Wilson.

“First of all, glad you listened to me.” Wilson felt he should at least voice that out loud, get it out in the air. “Second of all…”

He paused a moment, William looking at him expectantly, as if he knew the answers to everything. 

God, did having to explain this problem to this man make it seem even more complex, because Maxwell had been the one to tell him in the first place. And now here he was, having to tell someone that the woman in the dark did not, in fact, want help and was more inclined in ripping people apart from the inside out.

“...there’s a few things I think I'm gonna have to explain to you about this place first.”

“But the woman-”

“I'll get to that, but it actually isn't as dire as you think. But first,” Wilson turned to the crockpot, lifted the lid to let the steam and smell out. “The meatballs are ready, and I think having a full stomach will make this go over a lot smoother.”

William didn't look amused, frowning and looking even more nervous, but he stayed put as Wilson hustled about, and that was all that Wilson was asking of him right now.

Hopefully the man believed him, and wouldn't go rushing off into the dark after a phantom woman. If he knew her name, then that was a possibility, so it wasn't really a bad thing if Wilson just referred to the Queen as the Grue, right? Hopefully she'd not be offended.

Luckily, it turned out that William was very, very easy to convince about practically anything, and explaining that dying was a pretty real thing here turned out to be the right idea. He had a lot of trust in Wilson, that was for sure.

That, or he was just plain stupid, which was a possibility still. Maxwell really wasn't all that smart sometimes, and Wilson knew that pretty well first hand.


	4. In which William thinks he's camping with a mad man, that he was not cut out for trapping rabbits, and that he certainly wasn't in Kansas anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'If I, say, were to camp with a mad man I've incidentally placed my trust into, am I obliged to believe every word he says?'_

William...hadn’t slept well, and it wasn't just because there was a stone or pebble or _something_ directly pressed against his spine underneath the sleeping bag. It could've been the fact that he's never slept well in tents in the first place, but…

Just the fact that he was still _here_ , that this was not some weird fever dream, just the fact that William had closed his eyes last night to some sickly green tent ceiling only to open his eyes in the morning to the same view-

-it meant that this was real. It had really happened.

He had been on the train, to California, to meet up with Charlie and plan, plan out everything with her help-

And now he was here, with some scruffy short man he's never seen in his life, in a wilderness with no civilization in sight. What of Charlie? Was she waiting for him, wondering what was taking so long?

And the train itself…something had been happening, something that had jerked the floor into bucking and caused all the other patrons into gasps and yells, shouting. William had no idea what had been happening, and, apparently, he'd never know!

Because he was here instead!

But, if the train had truly been crashing, and he's died upon it, then-

No, he'd not entertain the thought! It was a terrible one anyway, and William carefully sat up, his back complaining from the rough terrain as he took a deep breath, or as deep as he could normally get. He's been forgetting what it's like, to sleep on almost bare ground.

The pain was enough, wasn't it, because the dead don't feel it. William was fairly certain he was alive, and for the most part well.

He could hear sounds outside, the cracking of the fire probably, and clattering, shuffling of things being moved about. Wilson must be up already.

The man had been dreadfully hospitable, letting William take the tent while he slept on that worn mat outside. He had tried to decline the offer, he couldn't just make his host sleep out in the cold like that, but the other man was rather stubborn and persistent.

Or maybe William had to admit that he hadn't put up much of an argument. The tent had looked more comfortable, though it still had its kinks. Part of it sagged funny, and he could see that it's been sewn together in a few places multiple times, scars on its fabric.

It must have lived through a lot, at least from what Wilson has been telling him.

Hounds bigger than a horse, cyclopean birds as tall as the trees, frogs almost too heavy to pick up, flying flowers and outrageously large spiders, monsters that tower over everything that can be imagined, something with the guise of a woman that would try to lead people away into the dark only to rip them to shreds, it all sounded like something from a storybook, or a horrific dream.

And none of it sounded real whatsoever. William was starting to come under the impression that his host was well and truly mad, probably from the years upon years of being alone.

The place did seem fit for more than one person, however, and the man had seemed like he had been looking for someone. But William had no idea on if that was true or not, or for how long he's been at it in this wilderness.

William was a gullible, all too trusting man, he knew this, but having dabbled in the magic arts even he knew this was too far fetched. The man who was being so kind to him had lost his mind, probably a long time ago, and now here William was, wandering into his home, and ending up being his guest.

There was still the question of _how_ William ended up here, but so far he's found no answers.

What was he to do then? William sighed, putting his head in his hands for a moment as he tried to think. 

He could leave, walk away when the other man wasn't watching, but what if he truly was in a vast wilderness of sorts? Nothing filled with imaginative monsters, mind, but being out in such places without protection or a map was dangerous, and William had no experience in such things. Wilson obviously has been here awhile, and knew how to take care of himself. 

Perhaps he had a map?

But would he be willing to let William walk away was the question. Mad men had no logic, or reasoning, William was fairly certain or at least guessing that, and while Wilson seemed for the most part level headed what if William asked the wrong question at the wrong time? There were weapons here, Wilson has shown him the spears, and he really, really didn't want to be put at the pointy end of one.

Oh, and poor Charlie, waiting for him, listening for any news. Perhaps the train has crashed out here, and he somehow dragged himself from the wreckage?

Unscathed and perfectly fine? That seemed suspicious, and maybe Wilson was a little madder than he thought, maybe this was some sort of set up-

William knew he was paranoid, had to be at times, but he was just getting ridiculous now. He was being stupid, and it was probably the bad nights sleep that made it harder to try and figure out.

He needed more time, before he just up and walked away into the unknown.

Take a deep breath now, he thought to himself, and take it one step at a time. He couldn't act a fool in this situation.

He had to make a plan, of action, to figure out how to get away from this place and to somewhere without talk of bizarre, dangerous nightmarish creatures. If he stayed here too long, he might go mad as well!

There was a shuffling, in front of the tent, and then someone cleared their throat.

“You up, William?”

“Yes!” he answered, a little frazzled sounding as he searched around for his glasses for a moment. “I'll be out in a minute!”

“Good. Can't sleep the day away, you know.”

Wilson walked off, back to whatever he had been doing previously, and William set his glasses on his face and took a steadying breath. It probably wasn't important, to mention that he's been up off and on all night, and he's only known the man for a day or so, even less than that, so who knew how patient he was. William didn't think it would be a good idea leaving him waiting regardless.

When he pushed open the tents flap, standing up slowly as his back protested, William wasn't at all prepared for how the place looked in the morning light. It was cold too, chilly though not by much, and that was probably because of how low the fire in its pit was.

It...actually looked a bit empty, in clearer light. The big chests were more imposing, and lopsided, shoddy almost, and the tent behind him actually looked worse for wear now that he could see it in the light. 

Well, even seeing the other man, hustling about that boxy metal thing, shed a bit more clarity.

That, or the sleep had given him a bit more time to adjust, because Wilson certainly looked like a wild man of sorts now that William looked at him.

“You, er, sleep well?” Wilson glanced over to him, looking a bit more hesitant than last night, more nervous even.

“Yes.” William lied bluntly, giving the man a smile that was supposed to be trustworthy and more seemed uneasy as he tried to think of something a little bit companionable to say. “The tent...it did keep the cold out?”

It came off more as a question than anything else, but the other man looked distracted, digging into that metal box...thing. William had no idea what it was or what it did, but it was there and Wilson was attending to it, so he made the unanimous decision to not let his curiosity get the best of him and instead shuffled over to the lowering fire.

It was warm enough for his hands, thankfully, and it had been a terrible decision for him to sleep in his clothing but he had no other choice. It wasn't as if William hasn't done it before, but it still didn't make him feel any better. 

As he warmed his hands, taking cautious glances every once in awhile to try and get a more familiar feel for the campsite, he could hear Wilson mumbling to himself quietly over by the metal box. It seemed as if he was counting, and William vaguely wondered if he should be worried, or if he should break the silence with some sort of meaningless conversation.

People liked it better when there was talking, made them more relaxed, but he's never really been the starting point of a conversation. Charlie usually took focus, long enough to let him enter in with more purpose, to take better stage after her introduction.

Her last letter, when telling him of her staying at her sisters before they'd meet up, had been nagging him on that. Said he truly needed to start being the center stage, not the outskirts, and that if he really wanted this then he needed to work for it, and that she'd help plan something out when the train met its destination.

Well, that was going to be rather hard, now that he was out here, and she was all the way out there. Who knew how long it would take him to get back.

...He felt rather terrible for the delay. Perhaps he should get up his nerve and just confront Wilson about this directly, try to get directions to the nearest station and set out as soon as possible. He shouldn't keep Charlie waiting.

Before he could make up his mind, however, there was a loud “Alright!” from Wilson and William was distracted from his thoughts.

The short man slammed shut the metal boxes door, brushed his hands together, and nodded his head before turning to look at William. There was an odd moment, right before he started to talk, as if he mistook William for someone else, but then Wilson shook his head in a hurry.

“I need to check the traps today.” He made his way over to one of the chests, passing by William with only a glance, and then he dug out what looked to be a couple of handmade bags of some sort. “You can help, of course.”

“Traps?” William blinked in mild confusion, automatically adjusting his glasses, a nervous habit. “What need do you have for traps?”

“Rabbits, of course.” The look the short man gave him was a little demeaning, as if William was stupid or a child, but then he walked over and offered up one of the bags to him. “They are easy to catch, easy to butcher, easy to eat. It's best to have the icebox stocked before winter, and we are running low on meat, so…”

He made an odd gesture, practically shoving the bag into Williams hands as he shrugged.

“The daylight lasts only so long here, and they hide underground in the evening, so we can't waste time. And it'll go faster with the both of us.”

Rabbit hunting, William thought miserably as he held up the limp, handmade bag. Poor things.

He wasn't particularly interested in following the other man, but Wilson was very focused on going, hardly seemed to have anything else in mind as he led William out of his camp.

They didn't talk, William finally slinging the bag over his shoulder when he saw Wilson do so, and the other man had picked up a spear at some point, kept a loose hold as well as keeping ahead of him, quiet. William wondered on if he should say something.

The worries he has, where he's at, what he should do or go, it weighed very heavily on him, and he didn't like it all that much. Wilson was certainly not as stressed by the whole situation, or at least it seemed that way, and his steps were steady and not at all hesitant or deterred by anything. William watched him for a bit, lagging behind a few steps, and he hardly knew what he was supposed to say, or should even say.

The trees they passed by eventually started to distract him, having to concentrate on his step as the terrain grew slightly rugged. There were pines, tall and thick trunked, pinecones clustered about the tall branches, but every once in awhile there was something more colorful, red and orange leaves that drifted and piled about white barked trunks, and near those were dips, ponds that Wilson led him in a wide berth around.

Sometimes he heard the trill of a frog, startling this early in the morning, but William caught no sight of one around.

At one point Wilson did stop, halting and almost causing William to run into him, so distracted with looking at the trees and their falling leaves, and the short man busied himself quickly with the round, shapely bush they had found themselves in front of.

He was muttering again, not really directed to William, so he just...waited patiently. He didn't quite know what else he was supposed to do.

Something twittered nearby, a few notes of chirping, and William looked over in interest as a red bird hopped out from behind one of the towering pines. It ruffled itself, flapping its wings, crest and feathers rising up as it looked over at him with dark eyes, before turning its attention elsewhere. It eyed the sky above, chirped a bit more, and William folded his arms and watched it peck the ground, hop through the blades of grass.

He could swear he's seen that sort of bird somewhere else, it was awfully familiar...

“Here, this should be good enough for a bit.”

William turned to see the other man offering him a handful of red things, that scowl from yesterday back on his face once more. Wilson didn't quite look like he was actually seeing him, mind turning and thinking of other things, and half a second later William cupped his hands and accepted the berries, giving them a curious look.

“We don't really have enough for a proper breakfast, but these can tide us both over until I can get my hands on a few rabbits.” Wilson dug around in his bag, pulled out a few of the things, and was already popping them into his mouth as he turned, ready to continue. “Not the best, but they do come in handy.”

William eyed the berries, looked up to watch the short man start to walk away, and wondered if he should tell him that red colored things are not usually all that wise to eat.

But the man was already going about his business, and, as William caught up, he thought about how obvious it was that Wilson has been out here for awhile. Even if he wasn't really all that right in the head, he should know what to eat and what not to eat by now.

And, after a moment of debate, the berries may be a bit sour but they didn't taste poisonous or anything. William didn't actually know what a poisonous berry would taste like, but perhaps he was in luck?

“Thank you, Wilson.” That caused the short man to halt, almost in his tracks, and then give him an odd, confused look for a moment before it cleared and he refocused ahead of them.

“It's...it’s fine. Sorry about not making breakfast or anything, I'm...not a very good host.”

“No no, it's quite alright!” William waved a hand at the man, flashing him what he hoped was a comforting, companionable smile. “I appreciate the gesture, I really do, and I'm glad I can be of some help at the very least.”

“...right.” Wilson continued on, the silence back, but it didn't seem as bad as before. 

William did wonder on if he should save any if the berries, finally just stuffing the rest into his empty bag, and slowly but surely the terrain was starting to change.

Grass plumes, yellowed and large, almost like full bushes of old grass stalks, started to appear, the trees thinning, ground becoming more dusty dirt and yellow than the softer earth and its green growth behind them. Every once in awhile he caught sight of a burrow, a small hole, scuff marks at the entrance, but nothing poked its head out just yet and Wilson kept on forward, William following behind.

It didn't take long to approach where Wilsons traps were set up. They were scattered about, mostly near the holes, some practically right in front, and William stuck near Wilson as he eyed the fact that a lot of them were actually down. They looked like rather simple things, constructed from grass and twigs maybe, and it probably only required an animal to briefly brush the inside for it to collapse down.

These rabbits must be some sort of awfully stupid breed, to be caught by something so simple. But, at the very least it was _humane_ ; William had almost been afraid of seeing snares out here, and those were not at all a pretty sight.

As Wilson crouched down near one, shrugging off his bag, another of the traps nearby twitched. William blinked at it, and realized that if these were not snares and did not do the dirty business for you, then that must mean-

“You have to be careful when getting them out, they can bite.”

Wilson glanced over to him, the scowl not as harsh, but he had an air of trying to show something so William hunkered down as well, eyeing the trap in distaste. Was this really what had to be done here?

“I've never really...trapped rabbits before.” He's seen his father take a gun to them, harvest meat ones even, but not much else. Wild rabbits were really not what he was used to.

“It's easy enough to leave the traps out and pick them up in the morning. The harder part is harvesting them.”

With that, Wilson put on hand on the trap, readied himself, and then lifted it, other hand shooting under as quickly as possible while flipping the trap up. There was a scuffing noise, but there certainly was a rabbit under there and he had a hand on its scruff, the creature freezing as the sunlight blinded it.

It was certainly larger than the ones he used in showing, William staring at it for a moment as its wide, pale eyes stared sightlessly out.

“Is it blind?”

“No, that's how they look.” Wilson adjusted his grip, the rabbit limp and motionless, and then he stood up with it in hand.

Or, more, the rabbits ears in hand. That got William up, a squeamish feeling in his gut.

“Oh, uh, you shouldn't…” The other man gave him a curious look, and William finally got his words into order. “The ears, Wilson, you shouldn't hold them by the ears.”

Maybe he was being stupid, but he had already indicated that he wanted to take the thing, reaching out as Wilson relinquished his hold and letting him adjust to holding the creature a bit better.

He had said they bite, so William kept a careful grip on the scruff, and it was much bigger than the domestic ones he's picked up, but not much different from meat farmed rabbits really. He hasn't handled one of those in quite awhile, but he remembered them being quite skittish.

This one, however, was being rather, cooperative, or more likely frozen in shock and fright.

“It can hurt them if you hold them by the ears, damages them terribly.”

Wilson frowned at him.

“We're going to eat it, William, I don't think it'll care much about damaged ears when its dead.”

“...Oh.” He forgot himself there, then. How embarrassing. 

For a moment they stood in silence, and William had no idea what to do next, looking down at the thing in his arms, its legs held out and body secured with his arms. It still hadn't moved much, great eyes larger than what he was used to, and he was still unsure on if that white color was natural. It also had something funny on its head, now that he looked at it, having been mostly distracted by the ears, but before he could get curious about it Wilson had stepped forward.

“I guess calming it down will make sure it won't struggle as much?” The man was trying to give him an excuse, and William let him take the rabbit back, this time with a better hold than just the ears.

“I suppose...you’re not going to slit its throat, are you?” The thought of that made him nauseas, he's never been good with the sight of blood and the poor things always kicked and jerked about when they died like that. It made him feel something awful, and if that was the end for all these trapped rabbits he may need to excuse himself elsewhere for awhile.

“No no, that's too messy.” Wilson adjusted his grip, before finally seeming to decide to crouch back down with it. “This is much easier.”

William didn't even have time to look away before the other man had snapped its neck. The noise wasn't at all pleasant, and it did twitch a moment, a half kick in the dirt before going limp.

“Huh.” Wilson didn't at all seem bothered in any way about the corpse in his arms, turning it to examine. “They usually struggle a lot more. Maybe you have the right idea on holding it differently?”

William, for the most part, handled it better than he'd of thought. When he had been younger he'd always had a worse time for understanding the _why_ of it all.

Wilson had said they were going to eat it. One can't eat a live rabbit.

But it still didn't make him feel any better, or less ill. He had been holding it but a second ago, felt its heart beating all too fast, and now it was very dead.

Wilson had stood up by the time he had been able to take a deeper breathe and steadied himself.

“You alright? You look a bit pale.”

“Just...just not used to that, is all!” William winced at the pitch in his voice, tried to wave away the other man as he took a few steps back. “I, I may not be much help here, unfortunately!”

Wilson was frowning at him again, but at this point William was certain he didn't quite care. He had been an idiot, thinking he could be helpful with something like _rabbit trapping_. What, had he truly thought there would be snares, and that he'd not have to participate in something that felt so...barbaric?

It took a moment - he did feel like running off, but where would he even go? - but then Wilson heaved out a sigh, scratching his chin before seeming to come up with something.

“I won't make you help with the rabbits, but maybe you can hold onto them?” At Williams more panicked look he clarified. “The dead ones, I mean. Stick them into your bag while I gather them up, okay?”

A moment of silence, as William turned the idea around in his head and wondered if he could just excuse himself. 

“I don't want to take all day, is the thing. The quicker we get through this, the quicker we can be back at camp.”

He couldn't meet Wilson's eye, but William eventually nodded his head, because that sounded logical and made sense and also he did want to go back to the campsite. It was the only place here where he felt it familiar, and safe in a way, and he also had no idea which direction it was in from here. Carrying around a bunch of dead rabbits didn't sound pleasant, made him feel a bit sick actually, but he couldn't just wipe his hands of the ordeal and walk off. 

“Alright, alright, I can do that.” When Wilson held over the dead rabbit, he did feel like he wanted to reconsider, but he's already said yes and that was the end of that. Swinging the backpack to hang from one shoulder, he handled the rabbits body with as much care as he possibly could, slipping it limply into the bag and feeling generally rather unpleasant.

The bag wouldn't be able to hold much, not with the size of these rabbits, so Wilson handed over his own, already setting the trap once more before heading to the next.

“If the bags get too full, I can help you with tying them on. I'll, of course, carry my own bag when we head back.”

William only nodded at that and didn't have much to say otherwise, staring at the ground and trying to ignore the fact that he had a dead thing in a bag hanging from him already. He really, really didn't like it all that much.

Wilson, for his part, only glanced at him once before focusing onto the traps, and after that it was for the most part silent.

Sometimes the creatures made a noise, a huffing, high pitched growl, almost scream even before Wilson cut them off by catching them up in his arms. Like the first, they stayed limp, docile, and, also like the first, he broke their necks in a quick orderly fashion. William made sure to not watch this time around, only taking the corpses handed to him and sliding them into the bags he held.

He tried to distract himself from the process, shuffling after the short man as they visited every down trap, and found that these plains stretched out far into the distance. A few small, rolling hills almost, but for the most part it was very flat, grass tufts rising up in small clusters, sometimes like mini lakes of yellow grass that looked to reach his knees, sometimes higher. Some burrows were left untrapped, and from here he could see a few of the rabbits poking their heads out, eyeing him as he looked on.

There was something off about them…

When Wilson handed over the next rabbit, furry body limp and floppy, William took a moment while the other man set the trap again, carefully turning the creature in his hands over to view its head.

“What...are these?”

Wilson stood up, raised an eyebrow at him as came over, and William held the rabbit in his arms, taking its limp head in his hand with an unpleasant look on his face and tilting it to show off the odd, thin protrusions set just in between its ears, long and twirled and a bit crooked. They weren't quite horns, though the bases looked thicker and hardier than the ends, but William wondered if the rabbits were sick with something. They couldn't eat sick rabbits, could they?

“Oh, those?” Wilson took one in his hand, held it a bit better to examine, and William realized they almost looked like-

“Antennae of some sort, I think.”

“Like on a...butterfly?”

Wilson nodded, not at all looking even a bit perturbed by the odd appendages as he let them go, William carefully loosening his hold on the dead rabbits jaw.

“Yep. The rabbits here have those, didn't I tell you?”

“No…” William stared at the rabbit for a moment, feeling more than just confused, before putting the corpse into his bag and getting himself together.

Alright then. A little bizarre maybe, but as if William knew every creature in every place in the world. So what if these rabbits had antennae and large, pale white eyes?

It was totally normal, according to Wilson.

It still left him feeling a bit off kilter, however, a bit lost. Wilson gave him an unreadable look, before heading to the next trap.

When William turned his gaze away once more, to avoid seeing the trap and its victim, he noticed something a bit...off in the distance.

Not too far away, really, and the grass bushel, all yellow stalks and thick blades, wavered in some breeze that didn't touch him, seemed as if to have the faintest of echoes in his vision, made him feel a bit light headed. But that wasn't what made him blink a few times and squint a bit, as if to help make sure he was seeing things right.

There was a...thing, out there, slipping halfway out if the grass, and it was dark and large and very, very familiar.

He blinked at it, and it blinked at him, wide, pale white eyes, almost blind holes that kept his gaze for a few moments, and it was close enough where he could see its little hands, claws as it waved them in the air without direction, slow and watching.

It didn't do anything, only tilted its head a bit, wide eyes blinking a split second after he did, and William stared hard at it, trying to figure out what manner of odd creature it could possibly be. Not a rabbit, most certainly not, almost more reptilian in nature, and it wiggled, practically slithered a few feet closer.

Still too far away to look down upon, but it had its head up and it certainly was looking at him.

William glanced over at Wilson, watched as the man pushed up another trap with a living rabbit underneath, grimacing as he looked back at the strange creature. It hadn't moved much, was just watching him apparently. He wondered what, exactly, it was, and if he should bring it up to Wilson.

And then something moved, a slight shift, and William looked away from the small wormy creature to find something larger staring at him a little further away.

It was big, it was dark, it held so much familiarity in its presence that he felt himself get light headed, shivery at just looking upon it, and its eyes…

Only a reasonable amount, two blinking at him, but it flipped his stomach and William knew, without a doubt, that it had many more eyes than just that.

It heaved with silent breath, massive body stretched out farther behind it, and its echoed form was grey and shivery and it felt as if he was seeing double even, but not quite.

It was hurting his head, quickly and quite terribly, and William hadn't even realized he had taken a step back, an unfamiliar, twisted wring feeling rising in his throat.

“Uh, Wil...Wilson?”

“Hm?”

The other man was distracted by the trap, or the rabbit, William couldn't take his eyes off the massive, thing, it was a thing, or monster or _something_ , how hulkingly huge it was, heavy silent breathes and those eyes, so many and yet none at all trained on him, completely and utterly.

He had the horrendous, bitter feeling that it found him the most interesting thing its found all day, like finding an ant under a spyglass, the ants little unsuspecting life and the heady heat of the child's interest, and it was going to make him ill, this rising, foreign panic, fear rising in his chest.

It was when it moved, body shivering and shuddering and much too big to be right, dark and like rising smoke, quivering, oozing tar, as if it wasn't moving at all, only the word tearing by the seams as it passed the thing by, that William realized he was shaking, almost tripped over a clump of grass as he kept backing away.

It was something icy, frozen, colder than he's ever felt before, and it shuddered and shivered and was an alien feeling, emotion, the sight of the thing as it plodded, tore through the fabric of the world towards him, limbs reaching out in such a wrong manner to not make any sense at all, and it was getting closer, hulking form rising as something like a jaw ripped open, almost splitting the thing in half _it was coming for him_ -

And then there was a hand on his arm, a tight grip snapping him from whatever edge he had been treading, taking a deep, stuttered breath, realizing he's been holding the air in him for too long, and William was shaking something terrible but Wilson was by his side, spear in hand and looking every which way, face set into a serious, harsh scowl.

“Where is it? Point it out, I can't see Them right now.”

There was enunciation in his voice, stress on the sound of one word, but William couldn't get his scrambled fear to cooperate to make sense of it all just yet, could only glance at the short man and his defensive stance, a firm hand on him, before swallowing thickly and pointing to the dreading crawling thing as it tore itself closer.

Wilson let go of him, that anchor suddenly gone and William hissed in a breath of air, that, that _thing_ glowering at him, mocking him with ice and cold and a tightness around his chest, before the other man stood in front of him, spear ready and shoulders set. 

“Stay behind me and don't move. If I lose it, point it out and I'll kill it.”

Blunt, to the point, confident, and it made the cold fear rise up again because _the thing_ was here and Wilson looked oh, so small in comparison.

But William hardly drew a breath of speak, to try and force words out of his mouth, before the shadow monstrosity was _there-_

-and Wilson swung the spear in an arc, cutting the point through it, not like butter but wavering and parting like a slash of air through smoke and steam. 

William could hear it _scream_ , even as it stayed utterly silent.

The dark smoke dispersed in plumes, faded like gusts of steam, its shape almost cleaved in half, and Wilson’s spear was embedded into the dirt and grass from how hard he had swung it. The short man squinted his eyes, carefully looking about with William doing the same, gaze jerking around as he tried to calm his panicked breathing.

The world was unsteady, grey and wavering with a dizzying echo, the feeling confusing and unbalancing and making him feel sick, it's odd familiarity making it even worse, and William felt himself sway a bit, turning to try and find that, that _thing_ even as his feet dragged and he almost tripped.

A steadying hand grabbed him by the arm, held him as he sagged a moment, finding it a bit difficult to breathe, and it was confusing, everything was so _confusing_ , what had that been, what had it wanted, what would it have done to him, this place felt, felt _wrong_ , in a way he hasn't ever felt, like a puzzle piece not slotting into the spot it was always meant to fit into, and it was almost _painful_ , how hard his heart was beating in his chest.

"Easy there, you're alright. It's gone.” 

Gone? _Gone?_ So it had been here in the first place then!?

...Had it? 

William had to close his eyes, suck in a tense breath with his jaw clenched tight, feeling nauseous from how blurred the world had gotten, grey and black and white. Something was wrong, and he felt terribly weak from it all. 

Whatever that had been...it had been real enough, and he felt a deep certainty that it had no good will towards him. 

He could hear words, Wilson was talking in a fast, concerned voice as the strength went from his knees, but none of it was clear enough, mumbles and strain. 

He...he didn't even know what to think, what at all to focus on besides the hard pain in his chest and the numbing drain in his limbs, and that thing had been real, somehow, it had been real, and Wilson's spear had sliced through it like a knife to butter. Killed it, he killed it, jaw and eyes and rippling shadow all, and it was gone. 

It was gone, and the familiarity, as if it had recognized him and he it, held him in a much too tight grip. 

When next William became aware, light headed but feeling not as lost or shivery, he opened his eyes to greenery, not the yellow of the plains. 

There was a hand on his shoulder, and he had to blink a few times to get the fuzziness to clear, looking to see Wilson crouched at his side, worry plain on his face. 

“...You fainted.” He said it bluntly, and William raised a hand to his face, pushing up his glasses as he rubbed his eyes and fully sat up, the other man drawing back a bit. “Thought for a sec that you…” 

His words drifted into silence, and William could hear the clear worry, and it was a bit odd. 

He's been here a day or so, even less than that, and already he has made his host get worried sick. Then again, that...that thing hadn't made the circumstances normal whatsoever. 

But it was dead, gone, so… 

“Here, this'll help.” Something was shoved almost into his face, and William could feel the tree he must have been dragged to against his back as he leaned away, squinting at the green thing. For a second he almost got distracted, there was something dreadfully off about the other mans fashion of gloves, but Wilson seemed to grow impatient and fumbled for his limp hand, dropping whatever it was into his grip. 

It almost looked like a mushroom of sorts, though not one he could recognize, and it was partly charred on one side. The spongy thing distracted him, green and spotted, browned gills almost crips looking, and he might have been making a face because Wilson huffed after a few moments. 

“Eat it, it'll make sure you don't see Them anymore.” 

That stress on the word was back, and William wasn't as scatterbrained as he had been, he picked up on it, but before he could get a word out Wilson had already shaken his head, that scowl back but tinged with worry. 

“I won't answer any questions until you've eaten it, and I don't want to have to force you to.” 

That got William a bit anxious, because the other man looked very serious, so he gave the thing in his hands one more nervous glance, vaguely hoped it wasn't poisonous, and shoved it into his mouth. 

The first thing that came to mind was that it was salty, saltier than practically anything he's eaten before. The second was that it was almost unbearably soggy, even as cooked as it looked, almost triggered his gag reflex before he got himself under control. 

The third thought was that he, once more, didn't know where he was or what was happening or why. 

“That...that thing-” William winced, raising a hand to massage his throat because that was almost painfully salty, and he still felt the urge to throw up, swallowing thickly. “-...what was it?” 

Wilsons face shifted, changed, and now he looked...almost saddened, before he shook his head and sat back, crossing his legs and setting his hands in his lap. 

“...That was a shadow, one of Them, the beings that hold reign in this world. If you see Them, it usually means you're not really...” Wilson waved at him, an odd gesture, looking as if he didn't have the words for it. “...not really in your right mind, or doing too well.” 

Wilson made a face at the look William was giving him, and he threw up his hands, voice suddenly a little louder and frustrated. 

“I told you last night, did you not hear!?” 

That stuck to him, and William looked away, suddenly very conscious of the fact that he had been treating everything Wilson said as coming from a mad man. It had seemed like that at the time, that was all, he hadn't thought that...that Wilson was actually speaking some level of truth. 

He didn't know if he could believe it all, with that sort of thing hanging around constantly Wilson still might not be in his right mind, but then again… 

He shivered, the faint vestiges of what that panic had felt like washing over him for a moment. It was too raw, too cold and horrifying, a pit in his stomach, to be fake or a trick. 

He knew tricks, and Wilson was no magician, and that thing had been no illusion. So this… 

This was all...real? 

Wilson was frowning at him, face all scrunched up, and William realized he had crossed his arms over his chest and drawn his legs up, that cold shiver a horrible memory that clung to his mind. 

“...might need to get you a few more green caps.” Wilson shook his head, took a deep breath, and suddenly stood up. He looked down at William, not by much, but his face was blocked off, only that hard, distracted scowl. “But I think heading to camp would be the best idea for now. It's already noon, and I can get the rest of the rabbits latter.” 

Wilson turned away, picked up the spear leaning against the trees trunk and then going to scoop up two bags off to the side. William could see a few rabbits tied by their legs hanging from them, not many but a few, and finally realized that maybe he should stand up and get moving too. 

It turned out to be a little more difficult than normal. His legs didn't want to cooperate, his balance was all off, and for one dizzying moment a black static creeped up on him and William thought for a moment that he'd fall right over. 

Then a firm hand got him steady, Wilson having walked back to his side, one bag slung over his back and the other hanging from his free arm. The other man waited for him to get his balance back, straighten up as the wobbly, blurry world got settled, and then held out the other bag to him. 

"You should be able to carry this back, it's really not that far from here.” 

William wondered on if the fact he hardly had the breath to stand straight could be an excuse, but Wilson looked tired now, worn out as he held the bag out, so he carefully took it. 

The rabbits in it were weighty, but not too bad, and William noted that no corpses hung from this bag. He was dreadfully grateful for that. 

“...I….am sorry for the...inconvenience, Wilson. I hadn't expected to see something like...like that.” The fact that such a thing existed, that it wanted him so strongly dead, worse than dead even, was going to be plaguing him for awhile. If it was real, then what other mad rambled made up monsters were real as well? And this place, what about this place, the fact that it can't be left, escaped, that there were portals to other worlds scattered about every which way? 

William realized, rather belatedly, that he was entirely unprepared for anything of this calibre to have happened to him. 

“...Well, for the record, the first time I saw one I didn't have backup. I actually thought it could have been friendly.” Wilson made a noise at his surprised look, and, with William watching his steps carefully and going at a very slow pace to keep from swaying too much, still feeling uneasy, Wilson huffed loudly. 

And sidled up closer, offering his arm. 

William might have felt offended any other time, but right now he felt unsteady and still a bit ill, especially with that cold, almost painful lump of mushroom in his stomach, so he only hesitated a moment before taking the short man's arm. Their height differences wasn't very helpful, but at least now William didn't feel like him falling would end with him on the ground and feeling even worse than before. 

Actually, this might be worse; if he fell, he might take Wilson down with him. The man was short, and didn't look like he could handle all that much- 

Wait a second. William glanced quickly back to the tree they were leaving, and looking forward he could see the yellow of the pains quite a ways away, past bushes and a few trees. They were going in another direction, but he could see that it was a distance between the two points. 

“Did you...did you drag me all the way over here by yourself?” William internally winced at realizing how demeaning his words sounded, or the implication that Wilson got help, which made no sense because he's seen neither hide nor hair of any other person out here so far. 

“I didn't drag you, I'm not that cruel.” Wilson didn't slow his step, but he sounded distracted, as if not really paying attention to talking to William and more focused on checking the sky, looking about them, as if on alert. “I'm perfectly capable of hauling someone as light as you around, don't worry about that.” 

“...Oh.” 

Now that he looked at him, Wilson distracted as he kept checking around them, focused in his steps that made William keep to his side, William supposed he did look rather sturdy. And he had no reason to believe Wilson would lie about this sort of thing, not after meeting that, what had he called it? 

That shadow, that Them. That being of this world. 

Oh God, the implications, of ‘world’ and ‘being’ and everything else. That this might not be anywhere near California, the States, or even the Earth itself! 

Williams steps slowed a bit, a drag as he felt that cold that had settled in him from that creatures so few and so many eyes shift, icy and biting and almost clogging his throat a moment. 

And what of Charlie, then? Just the thought almost made him stop completely, and the other man noticed. 

"...When we reach camp I'll get you another green cap.” Wilson met his gaze with a lopsided, uneasy but not unfriendly look, almost sympathetic as William had to rub at his eyes with his free hand and try to calm his breathing. “I think you're gonna need it.” 

William almost giggled, took a deep breath, and then finally accepted defeat, voice hoarse as Wilson stopped them and let him lean against his side, half sobbing, half laughing as the reality of it all sank in. 

If this was what he was going to be faced with, William really didn't think a couple of those salty green mushrooms were going to help all that much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays and all that jazz.
> 
> EDIT: idk what the heck was going on with this chapter but (hopefully) it's fixed now.

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter is short because I had intended for this to _be_ short, but along the way i got side tracked and messed up the whole plan.


End file.
